


In The Aftermath, Hope

by Hallianna



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Geth, Mass Effect 3, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Quarians, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, drabble prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of war, hope is found in the smallest, and sometimes strangest, of places.<br/>Based on this Tumblr Ask Box prompt:  Geth x Quarian, Post Control</p><p>Rock’s head tilted slightly, his bright eye shrinking then opening again before he spoke, as if he was weighing his words. “The atmosphere of Rannoch has been stabilized for months, and records show that you have taken all the appropriate vaccinations to allow for you to remove your mask. But yet you still wear it.” He stepped closer and stretched one finger out to point at her suit. “I am curious as to why.”</p><p>Of all the things this geth could have asked her, that was the last thing she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Aftermath, Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble prompt fill fic that I was so happy to write because it pushed me outside my comfort zone. I took some liberties with the “post control part of the prompt, so please just assume it’s part of the history post Reaper War. Also, I’ve never written quarians or geth before, so forgive any mistakes or oddness in any dialogue or anything, really. I did some research on quarian names, but they’re completely made up except for the ship names (those I found on the Mass Effect Wiki). And the geth is named for an everyday object; I made the assumption that after the Reaper War, and with Shepard having saved both the quarians and the geth, the geth would have not only taken individual identities and names. These names would have been pulled from familiar, everyday objects. Hence, his odd but familiar name in this.

Arlana looked up from her sad little pile of pots and half wilted flowers and sighed. The afternoon sun was beating on the back of her head and neck, sweat was dripping uncomfortably down her suit, and she hadn’t gotten farther than adding soil and fertilizer to five of the pots before her mind had begun to wander.

She wanted to be back in the laboratory with her sister, working on the new formulas for soil stabilizers they had been developing with the help of the geth.

But she needed to be here, setting up their home. So she did her duty and was….well, was _trying_ to make their tiny riverside prefab home look a little more cozy with some potted plants. Except she had no idea how to go about keeping the damn things alive and now she was sweating and losing patience and…

“May I be of some assistance, Arlana’Marex nar Shellen?”

Arlana’s head whipped up, her heart in her throat. It was still instinct for her to jump at the sound of a geth voice so close to her ears but she took a deep breath and smiled slightly when she saw it was Rock, the same geth trooper who was part of their little village’s build team. He had originally been in the fields with many of the people from the Shellen who had settled here, but lately, she’d seen him more and more in the village itself helping the settlers. So why was her heart still beating so fast? It’s not like she should be shocked at the geth’s presence.

She cleared her throat and finally found her voice. It came out only a little higher than normal and she was absurdly proud of that. “You don’t happen to know anything about Carmen flowers, do you Rock?”

Rock studied the flower in her hand for a moment before reaching out and cupping its roots in his, taking it from her. “Carmen flowers need a highly fertilized soil with abundant sunlight but little heat,” the geth said, turning the plant over in his hand. His eye narrowed as he examined the roots and stem and then said, “This plant is dehydrated but should recover, Arlana’Marex nar Shellen. Place it in damp soil in indirect light,” and he turned to motion to the far side of her little home, “at that corner of your dwelling. It should grow there.” Rock outstretched his arm, plant cradled gently in his palm, and offered it to Arlana.

She studied him for a moment, mask tipped up to look at his battle-scarred armor. When she took the flower from him, her hands didn’t shake. "Thank you, Rock," she said, holding the plant close to her mask and smiling a little. She was picturing a small bed of orange and red Carmen flowers on the west side of her home; her sister’s eyes lighting up when she saw the two lines of sunset hued flowers; cutting some of the blooms to set on their tiny table at dinner, just to give the place a little color.

Rock watched her smile and nod her head slightly as she started to turn away. “Arlana, may I lend assistance in this effort?”

She turned back and studied him for a moment. “The village elders don’t need your help with the fields?”

"No, there are plenty of geth and Crea - quarians out in the fields right now. I would prefer to lend assistance here, if you will let me."

Arlana’s ears were ringing. It was so strange to hear a geth talk like that:  self-possessed, not calling them Creators, speaking as an individual.  But the intent in Rock’s voice….in  _his_  voice, made her lose some of her hesitancy. She gave him back the flower, which he took, and motioned for him to follow her.

They set to work in silence, only talking when they needed to ask for the other to pass them a trowel, water can, or bottle of fertilizer. It was good work, solid and honest and despite the heat of Rannoch’s sun and the sweat running down her neck, Arlana finally felt like she was accomplishing something.

The afternoon turned into early evening before they were finished. Rock pulled her into a standing position and yanked a little too hard, sending her crashing into his hard metal body. He caught her deftly, long jointed fingers wrapping around her upper arms to steady her as she swayed slightly. “Are you well, Arlana?’

She shook her head and looked up. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to crash into you like that. Deena always says I’m clumsy.”

Rock bent his head once in acknowledgement. “Deena’Mayen vas Idenna, your sister.”

"Yes." Arlana looked around. "She should be home soon. She’ll love this flowerbed. Thank you for helping me, Rock."

"You are welcome, Arlana." And he let her go, stepping back and out of her path so she could begin to clean up her tools. He started to walk away but turned back, unable to quell his curiosity. “May I ask a question, Arlana?”

Arlana’s head shot up from where she was bent over a stack of empty plant containers. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

Rock’s head tilted slightly, his bright eye shrinking then opening again before he spoke, as if he was weighing his words. “The atmosphere of Rannoch has been stabilized for months, and records show that you have taken all the appropriate vaccinations to allow for you to remove your mask. But yet you still wear it.” He stepped closer and stretched one finger out to point at her suit. “I am curious as to why.”

Of all the things this geth could have asked her,  _that_  was the last thing she expected. Arlana found herself with a million reasons, excuses, protestations on the tip of her tongue, but none of them seemed suitable in the face of his innocent, logical curiosity. To the geth, it simply made sense for the quarians to remove their masks once they were physically able to. The mental and cultural implications were not a factor in their calculations.

 _Fear_ was not a factor.

Arlana swallowed hard and finally said in a rough voice, “I really don’t know, Rock. I guess….I guess I’m just afraid.”

The plates over his eye light drew down, almost as if in confusion for a moment before he came close to her and said very simply, “You should not be afraid, Arlana. If you want, I can help you.”

Arlana choked out a laugh. “How could you help me not be afraid to take off my mask?”

And in an afternoon that continued to surprise her, Rock, a geth, put his hands gently on either side of her mask, unhooked it from her suit, and pulled it away. And she let him.

He looked down at her stunned face and said quietly, “By showing you there is nothing to be afraid of, not anymore.”


End file.
